Speed Of Life
by Bombshell1701
Summary: MOVIE-VERSE. Clint makes Steve try speed dating. Chaos of the socially-inept variety ensues! Set post-Avengers movie. Rated T for mild concepts. Feedback is very much appreciate. Thanks for reading!
1. Chapter 1

**Speed Of Life**

"So, what's everyone up to tonight?" Tony asked.

"Finishing up this particle analysis." Bruce Banner said, not looking up from his computer screen.

"Wow, that sounds hot. Would you and the electron microscope like some private time?" Tony asked him. Banner glanced up to give Tony a tiny smile. Tony shrugged and turned to his other colleague, Clint Barton. "And you,_ Hunger Games_, got any target practice planned?"

Barton smiled and shook his head slightly at Tony's latest pop-culture dig. "Just taking Steve out on the town."

"Aww! Your ongoing bromance with The Capsicle warms my heart!' Tony teased.

"Please. If anyone has a mancrush on him, it's you. 'Hey Steve, let's watch the Playboy channel together',_ 'hey Steve, can I teach you to Google yourself?_'" Barton shot back.

Tony looked horrified and amused. "I resemble that comment!"

Barton laughed. "We've got some dates lined up."

"Get. Out. Of. Town." Tony said, genuinely surprised now. "How come he didn't say anything?"

"He's nervous."

"I'll bet" Bruce weighed in.

"So, who are the lucky ladies?" Tony prodded.

"Don't know yet."

"Blind date? Yowch. That's a risk." Tony said, frowning.

"Hmmm… kind of. Speed dating."

There was silence for a moment, Tony and Bruce looked at each other.

"Speed dating. You're taking the ninety-five-year-old virgin speed dating?" Tony was incredulous.

"That's… cruel." Bruce intoned.

"-And unusual." Tony added. "What, is this some kind of S.H.I.E.L.D. hazing ritual? Torture 101, maybe?"

Barton shrugged. "It'll be fine. He's only alone with each woman for six minutes at a time. What could possibly go wrong?"

Tony and Bruce stared silently at him.

"What the hell was I thinking?" Barton sighed.

"What are you wearing?" Barton demanded.

Steve froze, and looked down at himself. "Pants. And shoes, and a shirt?"

"No" Barton said, shaking his head. "Go change."

"What? Why?"

Barton had to think for a moment to be able to put it nicely. "You look like a hayseed."

"A hayseed?" Steve was confused.

"Yes. You can't wear those pants with that shirt. I don't know much about clothes, but I know that is a bad combo. You look like a provincial Canadian."

" That's offensive to Canadians."

"_You're_ offensive to Canadians. "

Steve was annoyed. "My clothes are clean and pressed. My shoes are polished. I'm showered and wearing deodorant. What more could you possibly want?"

They were at an impasse.

"Okay. Let's get an expert opinion." Barton said. "Hey Tony, come here for a sec."

"No!" Steve groaned in frustration.

A minute later, Tony walked into the room. "You summoned, oh Elven prince of- what the hell are you wearing, Rogers? I thought you guys were going speed dating, not cow-tipping."

Steve stared at Tony, and then looked at Barton. "That's it. I'm not going. This is too much work." He shoved his hands in his pockets and started back towards his quarters.

"Aww, c'mon! Don't be the Incredible Sulk. We already have one of those." Tony chided.

"What is wrong with what I'm wearing?" Steve demanded.

'"Nothing- for a casual day in the city. Preferably in a movie theatre where no-one can see you." Tony said kindly. "But for a date… no, no and_ no_."

Steve threw his hands up, exasperated.

"You have to understand modern women" Tony explained. "And Manhattan women. Modern Manhattan women. They have high expectations. Being good-looking and well groomed and gainfully employed isn't enough. Hell, being a superhero isn't enough! They want a man with a certain level of sophistication. A man who is well put-together. It's called _swagger_, I believe."

Steve stared blankly at him. "Well, that leaves me out." he said quietly.

"No, it doesn't. You're going to walk in with your apple-pie good looks and your old fashioned manners, and knock their panties off. But unless you want them second guessing that you just escaped from a cult… or prison… you need to look the part."

Steve briskly rubbed his face with his hands. "Fine. Just this once, I'll bow to your so-called expertise. What do I wear?"

"Remember when Pepper took you shopping, and she helped you pick out a whole bunch of nice clothes: that grey canvas jacket, and the light blue button-down shirt. Go put some of those things on."

"The grey military-style jacket, and the blue shirts with the epaulettes? I'm going from wearing one sort of uniform, to another sort of uniform." Steve said, irked.

"Women love men in uniform. Or anything that even vaguely resembles a uniform. Trust me on this." Tony assured.

Steve spun and stomped off like a petulant teen.

"Seriously, Barton, what were you thinking? He's not ready"

"He's lonely. He needs to get out there and meet someone. Give the guy a break."

"What are you really hoping to achieve?"

"Well, actually, I'm hoping I might pick up. And he's not a bad wing-man. He'll make me look good." Barton admitted with a sly smile. "And… it really is good practice for him."

Tony's eyes narrowed and he fixed Barton with a look. "This is about Black Widow, isn't it? You want to get out there secretly hoping it'll piss her off. And you take Steve with you, because you know he'll say something to someone, and it'll get back to her."

"Don't be stupid. She and I were never… nothing happened. Barely anything ever happened. It was all mind games with that woman, trust me."

"Uh huh." Tony said sourly.

_Some time later_

"There's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing" Steve cried.

"Did you _look_ in the mirror?" Tony said heatedly. "You cannot wear_ that _shirt with _those_ pants. You look like a barcode. You look like two barcodes! And what did you do to your hair?"

"I didn't do anything to my hair! Maybe it got mussed when I changed my shirt for the fourteenth time!"

"Well, you look like a cockatoo."

"Excuse me?" Steve said in a dangerously low voice.

Tony stared at him. "A cockatoo. It's a bird. It has a crest on its head. Oh, just go put the jeans back on!"

"Seriously. You guys need to stop screwing around with the clothes!" Barton said impatiently. "If we don't leave in the next five minutes we're going to be late, and I've already paid for this damn thing."

Steve stalked off again without a word. Barton turned to Tony. "Can you just go with him and pick something for him to wear. Dress him up like a life-sized Ken doll. Which, to be honest, is exactly what he looks like."

"I know, right? But you can't take him out looking like he's dressed himself. No one will go near either of you. You'll look like Tom Cruise and Dustin Hoffman, and not in any kind of good way. The man is offensively heterosexual."

Barton snorted with laughter "I dare you to say that to his face."

"No thanks. I like my teeth in my mouth, not being punched out the back of my head."

"All right, gentlemen, you're all clear on how this works? You go into each room, one at a time, moving from left to right, and you have six minutes to connect with each lady." The convenor summarised. "Feel free to make notes on your clipboard as you go, but remember, you're not writing the Declaration of Independence."

There was a ripple of nervous laughter from the group of twelve men. Steve leaned over to Barton. "I got that reference." He said confidently.

"I would be seriously concerned if you didn't." Barton murmured.

"All right, and away you go."

The men filed into a hallway with six doors either side. Each door was marked with a number, from one to twelve. The men were all wearing a number to identify themselves, and they started outside their corresponding door.

"Once more unto the breach" Barton sighed.

"Got that reference, too." Steve said grimly. Barton glanced over, the other man looked ashen.

"Buck up, Steve. You've faced worse. You'll be fine. Just smile, and be yourself."

"Easy for you to say. You weren't born in 1917. Two days ago I didn't even know what speed dating was. Kinda' wish I still didn't."

"All right, gentlemen… begin," The convenor announced. Barton gave Steve a good-natured slap on the back, and with a wink and a grin, disappeared into the room to meet his first date.

"All right, Rogers. You can do this. You've parachuted into worse. Much worse. This is a piece of cake. She's just a person; heck, she's probably just as scared as you are. But don't show fear." Steve gripped the door handle as he tried to give himself a little pep-talk.

"Dear? You should really go in now; it's a little rude to keep the lady waiting." The convenor called to him.

"Hell!" Steve swore under his breath.

He turned the handle, and went to meet his fate.

_To Be Continued..._

_Author's notes: I imagine this to be six months or so after the events of the movie, the team has been on several missions together and have a good rapport. Also, I have them all living in some sort of Anvengers mansion style arrangement. Many thanks to my friend and beta, Voiceofdisbelief, for laughing at me for the right reasons! Obligatory disclaimer- I own nothing and only write this for fun. And feedback. Please feed the writer feedback! Oh, and no offence to the Canadians! 3_


	2. The Complainer

**Sophie**

"So then he says '_You're a great girl, you deserve someone better than me'. _What the hell does that mean?"

"Umm..." Steve murmured

"So I said '_Have you met someone else'? _And he says '_No'_, and I'm like, '_So this break-up is just coming out of nowhere, then?' _and he's like '_I've tried really hard'. _He_** so **_didn't! He didn't try at all, he was pathetic! I did all the work in the relationship, all of it. And nothing was ever good enough, you know? I'm so now I'm like, good riddance! What a jerk. God, men are such jerks! Sorry, I didn't mean to include you in that, I'm sure you're great. Oh! And you know what else he said?"

"Uhh..." Steve wondered.

"He said_ 'I couldn't fall in love with you, I tried really hard, but it just never got to that level with me.' _Can you believe that? Can you imagine actually saying that to someone? So I was like '_Well, I didn't love you either, so don't worry'! _Ugh! Such a douchebag! Can you believe I put up with that for over a year! A year of my life, wasted! I am so ready to move on. So ready." Sophie said passionately.

Steve nodded, reeling from the intensity of her outpouring.

_(Clint)_

"And then my Dad was like_ 'You need to think about getting a place of your own, you're a grown woman'_... and my Mom starts in with '_By the time I was your age I was married with a child. What are you doing with your life, Sophie_?' She always does that, always! Always makes me feel like a failure because I haven't got married yet. You know, it's not like I'm not trying!

"Oh, kill me now" Barton sighed.

If Sophie heard this, it didn't register. She continued on her tirade. "And of course she's started in on the grandchildren thing. '_Oh Sophie, you're never going to give me grandbabies, what are you doing with your life'? Why can't you meet someone, you always think you're too good for everyone._ What a thing a say to your own daughter!

Barton heaved a sigh. Only five minutes to go.


	3. The Mean Girl

**Sherrie**

**Date number:**

#3 'Steve'

**First impressions:**

The Amish are speed dating now?

**Things in common:**

We're both mammals. Well, I am at least- let's assume he, too. That's about it.

**Did he make me laugh?**

Only in bewilderment

**Did I make him laugh?**

No, but he may have peed in fear at some stage.

**Do I feel a connection?**

No- I'm not sure I'd feel even a pulse if I touched his neck.

**Overall impression:**

Too much time at the gym, not enough time trying to not be a total social retard.

**Would I like to see this person again?**

No thanks. I could hear crickets chirping.

_**Sherrie:**_

**Date number:**

#2 'Clint'

(If that's even his real name)

**First impressions:**

Cute. Nice jacket.

**Things in common:**

I'm a freaky mystery ninja too, how about that? Oh, wait.

**Did he make me laugh?**

Only in a nervous way

**Did I make him laugh?**

He would have to of had some semblance of a sense of humour for that….

**Do I feel a connection?**

No, and I kinda' don't want to. There's something cold and NQR about him I don't like. And I bet he has psycho ex-girlfriends, too.

**Overall impression:**

Good at the start, with a rapid descent. Possibly armed.

**Would I like to see this person again?**

No, because it would probably end with him burying my body in a shallow grave somewhere upstate.


	4. The BrokenHearted

**Tammy**

Steve slunk into the room and closed the door behind himself. He looked over to find a young woman who looked as glum as he felt. He managed a weak smile and sat down across from her.

"I'm Steve."

She attempted a smile, but it wavered and didn't get anywhere near her eyes. "Tammy" she said briefly.

They stared at each other. Steve had a sinking feeling in his stomach- he'd seen that look before.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She sighed out an attempt at a laugh. "Yeah. Sorry, the guy before you was a little mean…." Her voice wavered, her mouth trembled, and she turned away in tears, covering her face quickly with her hands. "I am so sorry" she whispered.

"It's okay" Steve said, his brow furrowing. "What on earth did that guy say to you?" he demanded.

"Oh, he didn't… it's my own fault, really. I shouldn't be here. Oh god, why am I doing this?" she broke down in tears.

Steve stared at her, unsure on how to proceed.

"I just had a bad break-up" she tried to explain, her voice weak. "About a month ago. Some friends of mine thought I was pining a bit too much, so they got me dressed up to take me out… and brought me to this." She wiped away tears. "They kind-of just… dumped me here. Told me to get on with it."

"That's terrible." Steve sympathised. This gal didn't need a new boyfriend, she needed better friends. He moved his chair around to her side of the table and sat next to her, reaching over to pat her on the back. His sensitivity was too much for Tammy, who broke down again, and threw her arms around him. As she sobbed Steve patted her silently on the back. This was an uncomfortably familiar scenario- Bucky had always been a bit of a heartbreaker, and more than once Steve had ended up trying to comfort some poor girl his buddy had dumped. All he could do was rub their backs and hope they didn't get too much snot on his shoulder. That was about as close to a woman as he ever got. Things weren't looking up.

He spent the full six minutes with Tammy crying on his shoulder. At the bell, she sat up, and gently wiped her face.

"Thank you for being so understanding" she murmured.

"Hey, no sweat." He said shrugging.

"I hope you have some luck here tonight. You seem really nice" she assured.

"I don't think this speed dating thing is for me either." He admitted.

She managed a smile, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

Steve left the room, and waited until the door was closed before letting out a huge breath. Barton was coming out of the next room with a bemused expression on his face. He looked at Steve. Steve gestured to Tammy's room.

"She's in a bad place. Go easy on her, okay?"

Barton shrugged and opened the door to go in. Steve heard Barton speak through the door.

"Are you crying? Was he really that awful?"

Steve rolled his eyes.


	5. The Interrogator

**"Bunny"**

"I'm Constance, but everyone calls my Bunny" she said. Her handshake was firm to the point of painful, and Steve tried not to wince. "Sit down" she said brusquely. Steve did as he was told.

"All right. I have a few questions for you. If you don't mind" she added almost as an afterthought.

"That's great." Steve said, nodding. At least now he wouldn't have to chitchat.

She picked up her clipboard and a pen. "Mets or Yanks?"

"Neither" Steve said bitterly.

"All-time favourite movie?"

"Um… _Wizard of Oz_?" he hazarded.

She looked at him, face impassive. "_Wizard of Oz_?" she questioned.

Steve shrugged. "I also really liked _Singin' In The rain_…." He hazarded.

She looked at him again. "That's a musical."

"Yes."

She scribbled furiously on her clipboard. "What did your grandparents die of?"

"Uh… what? That's… kind of a personal question."

She looked expectantly at him.

"I don't remember, it was a long time ago. I didn't actually know any of them."

She made a note. "What are your political leanings?"

"I don't know enough about current politics to have a strong opinion yet." He answered truthfully.

"Are you at least enrolled to vote?" she asked critically.

"…No" he answered with a grimace.

She frowned disapprovingly and made a note.

"Do you want to have children?" she pressed.

He stared at her. "I don't know!" he cried. "It's a bit too soon to..."

She looked at him, unimpressed. "I'm on very tight schedule, Steve. I'm looking for someone who has their life and their priorities sorted out." She stood up and shook his hand firmly again.

"Thank you for your time" she said, dismissing him.

Steve left the room feeling like he'd just interviewed for the worst job ever.

_(Clint)_

"What did your grandparents die of?" Bunny asked Clint.

"Haemorrhoids" Clint deadpanned.

Bunny stared at him, unimpressed. "Haemorrhoids?"

"Yeah. Bad hereditary thing. Big scandal. Really bad news."

Bunny made a note. "Moving on" she sighed. "Do you want children?"

"I already have children" Clint answered.

"Oh?" Bunny said.

"Yes. I adopted conjoined triplets from Madagascar two years ago."

Bunny raised an eyebrow "I don't think you're taking this very seriously."

"And I think you're taking it way too seriously." Clint shot back.

"Thank you for your time." Bunny said flatly.


	6. The Minx

**Emily**

"Hi, I'm Emily" the woman drawled. She leaned forward to shake Steve's hand; he was almost overwhelmed by the amount of cleavage she had on display. He immediately averted his eyes, but his face began to flush. He sat down, eyes still averted, and swallowed nervously.

"I'm… uh, my name is Steve" he choked out.

"Where are you from, Steve?" she leaned forward on the table, breasts front and centre.

"Um… uh… Brooklyn?" he managed. He looked determinedly at her face. She gave him a sly smile.

"So, what do you do for a living?" she pressed. She ran her eyes over him, making no attempt at subtlety. Clearly, she liked what she saw; a slow smile spread across her face.

He swallowed. He could feel beads of perspiration gathering on his top lip under her very intense scrutiny. He looked up at the ceiling.

"I… work… for the government" he murmured.

She nodded and sat back in her chair, tossing her hair over her shoulder, pushing her shoulders back to make her boobs even more obvious. She leaned forward again and reached across the table. She ran her fingers over the back of his hand, which was resting on the table. He managed to not yank it away from her. Or scream. Or fall off his chair, which is what he really wanted to do. Could this woman be any more obvious? She was just laying all her cards out on the table. He did not like it at all.

"So, Steve, are you a briefs or boxers kind of guy?" she asked, smiling at the look on his face.

_(after)_

Steve was sweating heavily. He practically slammed the door behind himself, and then leaned upon it. Clint was already in the hallway, and looked at him.

"Having fun?"

"She's terrifying." Steve breathed. "She kept touching me! No matter how far away I sat! And she asked me questions that made no sense. She wanted to know if I swing? I thought she was talking about playground equipment, but maybe not…."

Clint looked at him with raised eyebrows. "I'm going to buy you_ Hustler _magazine. That'll clear things up." he said. "But first, my turn." He flashed a grin at Steve, and rubbed his hands together with delight and went in to try his luck with Emily.

Steve shuddered.


	7. The American

Before we start, I just want to thank everyone who has been leaving feedback- I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! I see that I'm getting a lot of hits on my stories, and a lot of readers are adding me to their favourites, which I also appreciate. But feedback lets me know what you like, and that means a lot to me creatively. So, without further ado...

**Karen**

"I'm Steve"

"NIce to meet you" Karen said politely. "So, where are you from?"

"Brooklyn, originally. A long time ago. But I seem to live in Manhattan now."

"Do you like it?"

"Not really."

"Oh, bummer."

There was an awkward pause.

"Are you Japanese?"

Karen smiled slightly, "No, I'm American. My family came from Korea several generations ago. But I'm Jersey, born and bred.

Steve nodded. "I used to uh... work with a Japanese-American guy. HIs name was Morita. He was a good man."

"That's nice" Karen said.

"I tried Japanese food or the first time a few weeks ago. Some of the people I work with were going out for it. I didn't eat any of that raw fish, but the noodles were good. I wasn't great with the chopsticks, though." he admitted.

Karen smiled bemusedly and nodded politely.

"Can you use chopsticks?" Steve asked, trying to revive the conversation.

"I can, yes. But noodles are tricky, that's for sure" she said conversationally.

"Yeah... yeah I like Japanese food. Karaoke!' he said suddenly. "I got taken to karaoke, too. But I didn't sing. I didn't much care for it..." he trailed off uncomfortably.

Karen looked speculatively at him. "You realise that _Japanese _and _Korean _aren't the exact same thing, right? Different countries? Different language? Different cultural heritage?"

"I know" Steve said, blushing furiously.

"Well, then maybe we should change the subject?" Karen said casually, glancing at her watch.

Author's note: This conversation is based somewhat on something that happened to a friend of mine (except she's Japanese and was thought to be Korean.) She thought it was pretty funny at the time and said I could use it, so I hope this doesn't come across as cuturally insensitive. Obligatory legal yadayada- I don't own these characters, and I make no profit from posting my FF on here. And like I always say... feedback is LOVE!


	8. The Wild Card

**Nat**

It took every ounce of masculine self-control Steve possessed for him to not cry out in shock when he walked through the door.  
"Well. This is awkward" Natasha Romanoff drawled.  
"Wha... what are you doing here?" Steve gasped.  
"Speed dating" Natasha said brightly. She gestured to the chair across from where she was sitting. "Sit down."  
Steve looked at her suspiciously.  
"If I wanted to kill you, Cap, you'd already be dead."  
Steve peeled himself off the wall and sat down.  
"So. I'm Natasha" she said conversationally. "And you are...?"  
"You know who I am" Steve said flatly.  
"I don't think you quite get what we're doing here. Have you been like this all night? If so, prepare to strike out."  
Steve gawped at her. "Does Clint know you're here?"  
A slow smile spread across her face. "No, and you're not going to warn- you're not going to tell him, are you?"  
Steve swallowed nervously. "No, ma'am."  
"Good boy. Now... tell me about yourself. You're Steve, you're from Brooklyn. You work for the government... what else? What are your hobbies?"  
Steve stared at her. "I... like motorcycles?"  
Natasha nodded encouragingly.  
"And pilates. And boxing. And going to the movies-" he broke off suddenly. "Wait- why is it so easy to talk to you?"  
"Because you know me, dummy" Natasha said flatly.  
"But we never talk... about anything. Except weapons and tactics, and your ability to kill men twice your size with your just your legs. You're actually the most terrifying woman I've ever met. But here I am, talking to you, easy as pie!"  
Natasha stared at him "Nice epiphany?"  
Steve nodded "I think so. I think I'm scared of women for the wrong reasons." he shrugged. "Huh" he sighed. He gazed speculatively at her. "What about you?"  
"Oh, you know, I like to cook. I like dancing. Flower arranging. Shopping. Insert various other stereotypically feminine pursuits."  
Steve frowned. "What do you really like to do?" he pressed.  
Natasha quirked a smile at him. "Mixed martial arts. But I tell these guys that, and watch them run screaming from the room."  
"I don't think you give guys enough credit."  
Natasha studied Steve for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. Steve rolled his eyes, knowing he was being mocked.  
"You're great, Rogers. Really cute. Good luck with that." her laughing stopped.  
They stared at each other for a moment, until the bell sounded.  
Well, it's been nice talking..." Steve said, jumping up and hurrying to the door.  
"Don't.. say...anything to Clint on the way out" Natasha threatened.  
Steve sighed and exited the room. He slammed the door. Clint stared at him. "Man, are you shaking?"  
"Nope" Steve said. "We're all good. All good here." He hurried to the next room.  
Clint opened the door and entered the Black Widow's lair. Steve heard his scream through the door.


	9. The Shy Girl

_**Sylvie**_

Steve had to stop himself from saying _Wow_ out loud as soon as he saw his next speed date. She was pretty much the dictionary definition of gorgeous- wavy golden hair, big brown eyes, slender and lovely. She was dressed beautifully, too. And she even smelled good... he felt his face starting to flush as he sat down.  
"So, uh... I'm Steve" he managed to say eventually.  
She nodded and smiled weakly, and seemed to swallow nervously.  
"Sylvie" she said quietly.  
The uncomfortable silence between them stretched on, and Steve was surprised she wasn't more forthright; weren't beautiful dames used to being the centre of attention? He looked over at her. She was fiddling with her bracelet and looked nervous and stressed. A thought struck Steve then, and he sat up suddenly. She was just as shy and awkward about being there as he was! How about that? Imagine being that good looking and not be able to do anything with it... He knew he should be a gentleman and make this easier for her, but how could he put her at her ease? He... could open up about himself? Start the ball rolling, so to speak. In a crisis or in battle he was a natural leader, yet in social situations he still lacked so much confidence. But heck, chivalry wasn't dead, and he was going to prove it.

**Date number:**  
_3- Steve_

**First impressions:**  
_He seems nervous, too. I'm glad I'm not the only one. Might be a nice change from all the other cocky idiots who've been here leering at me._

**Things in common:**  
_He talked so much, I didn't have a chance to catch everything he said. In fact, I don't think I caught anything because he talked so damn fast._

**Did he make me laugh?**  
_No, I didn't find him funny. Just tedious_

**Did I make him laugh?**  
_I think I got about 7 words in all together. He was so busy gabbing even Tina Fey wouldn't have had time to crack him up._

**Do I feel a connection?**  
_No. Just sick of good looking men who are so self-focused._

**Overall impression:**  
_Does he always talk that much / that fast/ that obsessively about himself? What a bore. _

**Would I like to see this person again?**  
_No. But I would like my 6 minutes back._


	10. The Bimbo

Sheep's Queen- this is for you ;)

**Chloe**

Chloe sat staring with open wonder at Steve. She chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated him. Steve squirmed under her scrutiny, feeling beads of sweat starting to gather on his top lip.  
"Okay, I know this is kinda' against the rules, but can I take a photo of you?"  
"Um, why?"  
"I want to send it to my girlfriends. They tried to talk me out of coming tonight, because they think the only guys who do speed dating are ugly losers. So I want to prove them wrong! I want to send them a picture of you and say _how you like me now, bitches?_  
"I don't think that's-" he started to say, but cut off when she snapped a photo anyway.  
"Oh, hang on, let me take it again, your mouth was open, you look kinda' retarded."  
Steve's brow furrowed, and he stared at her, appalled.  
"Smile!" She said brightly, taking another shot. She shrugged. "Well, that's not great, but it'll do."  
She manipulated the phone, then set it down with a giggle.  
"So, you must work out a lot" she said conversationally.  
"I got to a gym" he said noncommittally.  
"Well, you look amazing. Seriously, you're the best looking guy I've seen so far tonight."  
Steve's frown deepened.  
She raked her eyes over his body again. "Would it be creepy if I touched your arm?"  
"What?" he asked, perplexed.  
She raised her arm and flexed, gesturing to the bicep, and then pointed to him. "Can I touch your muscle? Because it's huge. I wanna feel it." she said playfully.  
When he'd been doing the war bonds tour, he occasionally got this reaction from women. Back then he'd smiled and obliged them, posing for a photo with the young lady innocently squeezing his flexed bicep. It was all good publicity, and good harmless fun.  
Without waiting for an answer she stood and leaned across the table, squeezing his upper arm. He instinctively leaned away slightly.  
"Woah" she breathed. She ran her hand up to his shoulder, and onto his pectoral. He jerked back from her.  
"That's not-" he stuttered "You shouldn't do that. How would you like it if I put my hands on you without asking?"  
She laughed, "Honey, I would have no problem with that!"  
Steve fumed.

**Date number:**  
#3 'Steve'

**First impressions:**  
_Dear god, he's good looking. Why is he single?_

**Things in common:**  
_Umm... I think he said he was in the army? I LOVE men in uniform._

**Did he/she make me laugh?**  
_I pretty much couldn't stop giggling. Or staring at his guns. Damn! DAMN!_

**Did I make him/her laugh?**  
_I think I made him nervous. Oops!_

**Do I feel a connection?**  
_I would like very much to be connected to him physically, especially around the pelvic region. He'd need a crowbar to prise me off._

**Overall impression:**  
_Okay, he didn't say much, but who cares! He doesn't have to talk! He just has to look pretty and let me ride him til he breaks!_

**Would I like to see this person again?**  
_Hell yeah! I'd like to see him naked, as in NOW!_

_Author's note: If you gave me alcohol, sugar and caffeine and switched off my ability to have an inner monologue then locked me in a room with a guy like Steve.. this is pretty much what would happen. So, welcome to my Mary Sue. But we don't judge here ;)_


	11. The Saggitarian

**Monique**

**Date number:**  
_#3 Steve_

**First impressions:**  
_Wow, nice shoulders. Nice physique. Seems shy/nervous?_

**Things in common:**  
_Hard to get him talking, either he's stuck up or really, really shy._

**Did he make me laugh?**  
_He was too quiet or uptight for that_

**Did I make him laugh?**  
_He didn't seem to understand much of what I was saying. Wait, does he even speak English? Maybe that's what's going on?_

**Do I feel a connection?**  
_Sadly, no. Which is a shame, because he sure is pretty._

**Overall impression:**  
_A guy this good looking cannot possibly be this shy! I'm sure he's nice and all, but too much work. I want a guy who is confident and forthright. I don't want to have to do all the talking._

**Would I like to see this person again?**  
_He would need to come out of his shell or something. I don't see that happening._

_**Monique:**_

**Date number:**  
_#2 Clint_

**First impressions:**  
_Smooth. Very self-possessed. Nice smile. Confident._

**Things in common:**  
_He says he likes archery. I'm a Sagittarius._

**Did he make me laugh?**  
_A little. He also made me nervous. He has a very intense gaze._

**Did I make him laugh?**  
_Only when I asked if he had x-ray vision and was he currently checking out my underwear._

**Do I feel a connection?**  
_I feel slightly uncomfortable, but in a good way, like I'm being challenged by someone with some smarts. I feel intrigued._

**Overall impression:**  
_This guy would be a good time, but he'll show up when it suits him. Fun, but probably not boyfriend material._

**Would I like to see this person again?**  
_I think so. I would like to know more._


	12. The Sweetheart

_**Rebecca**_

Steve was more than a little jaded so far. He walked in to meet his next 'date'. Her caramel coloured hair was cut into a sharp bob that managed to look modern and very 1920's at the same time. She was wearing a cardigan over a dress and tights, which Steve thought was modest and quirky. She grinned at him in a friendly way, but Steve could tell by the way she was holding her shoulders that she was probably at least as nervous as he was. He liked her straight away. She introduced herself as Rebecca, 25, from Beechhurst, and somehow they got straight into talking about movies.  
"I've recently discovered Hitchcock" Steve admitted.  
"Oh, I like old movies!" Rebecca agreed.  
Steve grinned, thinking how what was old for one person could be amazingly new for someone else.  
"_Rear Window_ is probably my favourite of his" Rebecca continued. "I love James Stewart."  
"Isn't he great?" Steve agreed. "Have you ever seen _Mr Smith Goes To Washington_?"  
"Yes! The filibuster scene, absolute classic!"  
They continued on like this for their full six minutes. It was, without question, the longest normal conversation he'd ever had with a woman, and he enjoyed it immensely. When the bell rang, they broke off hesitantly, then both smiled and laughed.  
"Well, it was nice to meet you," Rebecca said, suddenly shy.  
Steve nodded. "Maybe we'll get to talk again sometime?"  
Rebecca smiled demurely. They shook hands and Steve left the room. He smiled to himself and put a big tick next to her number.  
_(later…)_

"She's great!" Clint enthused, leaving Rebecca's room. "We talked non-stop about sports the entire time. I've never met a woman so into ice hockey. I felt like an amateur" he said in awe.  
"Sports? Really?" Steve asked. "We talked about movies the whole time."  
"Movies? Pfft!" Clint said dismissively. He looked at his clipboard. "Well, she's getting a big tick from me!"  
Steve gave him a speculative look. "I've ticked her, too."  
Clint shrugged. "That's fine, man. It's not a competition... Maybe she didn't even like either of us."  
Steve narrowed his eyes. "She liked _me_ just fine."  
"Sure she did, buddy." Clint said slyly, slapping him on the back.


	13. The Hipster

.** Lola**

"Lola" she introduced herself. She was draped over her chair with a regal air, and Steve wondered if he should ask her permission to sit down. He looked at her: she was wearing the strangest outfit he'd ever seen on a woman, which was saying something considering the array of weird he'd been met with since he'd been defrosted. Her black knitted dress seemed to be covered in woollen baubles the size of gumballs. Her hair was shaved underneath, the top part long and teased into an unruly bun at the back of her head. And she was wearing unattractively large, black framed glasses that didn't seem to have any actual lenses in them... She looked him over and clearly wasn't any more impressed with what she saw.  
"So what do you do for a living, Steve?" she asked in a way that seemed slightly insolent.  
"I work for the government" he said, giving her his usual cover-story.  
She made a dismissive noise. "Paper-pusher?" she asked.  
Steve considered her. "Not exactly. What do you do?"  
"I run an 80's-themed recycled vintage clothing boutique in Williamsburg" she said.  
Steve couldn't quite picture what that was, so he just nodded.  
"What sort of car do you drive?" she pressed.  
"No car, just a bike."  
"Oh" she said, looking interested "Glad to hear it. I just have a custom fixie, gets me where I need to go. So much better for the environment."

Steve's brow furrowed. "A _custom fixie_? I don't think I've heard of that brand."  
She looked at him like he was dull. "A customised fixed gear."  
"Oh. Do you mean a bicycle?"  
"Yes, I mean a bicycle. What did you think I was talking about, motor bikes?" she said with an air of sarcasm. They stared at each other. "Don't tell me _you_ have a motorcycle?"  
"A Harley" Steve offered proudly.  
Lola snorted. "Oh, okay, _Easy Rider_."  
"Hey! Rosie is a beautiful machine" Steve said defensively.  
Lola laughed bitterly. "_Rosie_, of course. You would have to give it a girl's name."  
"What's wrong with that?" Steve said coldly. "You don't have a name for your bicycle?"  
Lola frowned deeply, caught. "Eduardo." she admitted. "But at least he's not a gas-guzzling _motorcycle_. Those things have no purpose anymore- they're antiques." she sneered.  
Steve shrugged "Well I guess that's why I like them." he said coldly.


	14. The Aftermath

**Aftermath**

Steve and Clint were back in the waiting area while the convenor looked over everyone's impression sheets so she could hand out phone numbers to the people who had both liked each other.  
"So... what did you think of your first speed dating experience?" Clint asked genially.  
"First and last, this was my first and _last _speed dating experience." Steve said flatly. "One time deal."  
"Aww, c'mon, don't be such a wet blanket!' Clint teased. "At least you got out there and broadened your horizons! So not all the women were your type. There were some... nice ones... even you can't complain about that..."  
"Let's see" Steve muttered, thinking back on the evening's entertainment. "I got felt up, twice; I insulted some poor Korean woman- she now thinks I'm the world's biggest racist; I got _cried_ on for six minutes-"  
"I got cried on, too!" Clint interjected.  
"I got called a _bourgeois pig_ by someone wearing glasses with no lenses in them, what is the point of wearing something like that?"  
"Hipster." Clint chimed in sourly.  
"I was put through a background screening even tougher than the Army's; I had my ear chewed off for six minutes by a professional complainer; I met someone even more shy and awkward than I am; I got asked by one gal if I just escaped from a Pennsylvania Dutch Amish community; and was treated with thinly veiled pity by another."  
Clint cringed and shrugged.  
"Oh! And let's not forget my run-in with our dear friend, Natasha Romanoff."  
"No, please, I _do_ want to forget that." Clint said quietly, rubbing his face.  
"One girl. There was one girl who I liked... and you liked her, too. So now we're going to fight over her-"  
"Yeah, pistols at dawn" Clint drawled. "Or, we let her make up her own mind... which is kinda' the way ladies like to do things nowadays, in case you hadn't noticed."  
Steve stared at him. "I hate you."  
"No you don't. You just need to work on your skills."  
"Unless those skills are hating you, and never getting shanghaied into any of your stupid ideas again... I'm not interested." Steve said flatly.  
The convenor re-entered the room, a beaming smile on her face. "I have your envelopes, be careful not to lose them, because they contain the phone numbers of the ladies you liked, who also said they liked you back. I think you'll all be pleased."  
"Very scientific" Clint said quietly.  
She went around the room handing out the envelopes to the other men. Some of them were eager, and opened them straight away to see who they'd charmed. Steve stuck his inside his jacket pocket. Clint hesitated. "Aren't you going to look?"  
"Later" Steve said dismissively. "Let's go, I'm starving."  
He thanked the convenor, nodded at the other men and strode out of the room. Clint hurried to keep up with him.  
"So. Japanese food?" Clint asked playfully.  
"Uh, no." Steve answered.  
"Schwarma it is, then."

.. .. .. ..

_(Dinner time)_  
"You know what I hate about _you_? That you can demolish a pile of food like that five times a day, and you'll never get fat." Clint said.  
Steve shrugged and wiped his hands. They sat in companionable silence for a moment.  
"C'mon, can we open the damn envelopes, already?" Clint said.  
"You can open yours whenever you like."  
"Steve" Clint said "Stop making a _thing_ out of this." He pulled his envelope out of his pocket and held it up. Steve sighed and retrieved his.  
Silently they ripped their envelopes open and looked. Clint chuckled, looking quite pleased with himself. "Not bad." he murmured. He handed his list over to Steve for the other man's approval.  
Steve took it and scanned it. "Five phone numbers." He nodded. "Well done, you. Going to call any of them?"  
"I'm going to call all of them. Just not at the same time, obviously." Clint picked up Steve's letter.  
"Hey, you got two! Wait- why is Natasha's phone number on here?"  
Steve looked at him like he was crazy "Because what if she'd put my name down, and I didn't put hers? Then she would know I didn't pick her as someone I... _liked_. And then she would kill me."  
Clint laughed.  
"I can't believe _you_ didn't put her name down... you are foolhardy." Steve chided.  
"I am not scared of Natasha Romanoff." Clint said. Just then his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it. "Oh crap, it's Natasha" he hissed. He hit 'end call', then put the phone back in his pocket, trying to look natural. "I didn't put your name on my list, lady!" he muttered."You're a dead man." Steve muttered.  
"Nah, I'm gonna throw you at her and run away. That's my zombie survival plan- also works on the Black Widow." Clint said lightly. "You actually gonna go out with her? You know, in public, on a date-type thing?"  
"No!" Steve said, blushing instantly. "She won't want to go out with me. The way I react to things embarrasses her. I talked her into watching a DVD with me one day, _The Lion King_. She walked out when I started crying."  
Clint stared at him. "I... can't says I blame her."  
Steve pulled a face at his friend. Then he shrugged. "Anyway. She just went tonight to mess with us."  
"Ain't that the truth?" Clint drawled. He tipped his head to the side, thoughtfully. "I'm not going to call Rebecca... at least not straight away. You should call her and set something up."  
Steve frowned. "Don't _not_ call her just because you feel sorry for me."  
"It's not that- I don't feel sorry for you, trust me. Between your metabolism and your upper body strength, I'm pretty sure I actually kind-of hate you. But... I don't want to be greedy. You see how you go with her, first."  
"She has your number, too. What if she calls you...?"  
"Then I _will_ go out with her!" Clint enthused.  
"Fair enough." He reached across the table and shook Clint's hand." Can we go home, now? I've been in a nervous sweat all night, and I'd really like to take a shower."  
Clint laughed mercilessly. "Okay, you can go home and sulk now. The bad man has had his fun." he folded his list of phone numbers up, and slid it into his wallet for safe-keeping.  
"I'm not sulking" Steve said petulantly, stuffing his very short list into his pocket again. "But if you ever ask me to go anywhere with you ever again, to do _anything_, I'm saying _NO_. And probably punching you in the back of the head for good measure."  
Clint smiled.

.. .. .. ..

_(later)_

Steve emerged from the bathroom, refreshed from his shower. In the low light of his bedroom he could see the _message received_light flash on his phone. His eyebrows rose in surprise, and he tapped the phone to open the message.

_[Hi Steve, this is Natasha. We met tonight at the speed dating event. Dinner next Saturday, if you're free?]_

Steve's eyes widened in horror.

Clint didn't have to worry about Natasha killing him- Steve would do that himself.

.. .. .. ..

_Author's note: No. I am **not** officially shipping Steve/Natasha (Stevasha? Nateve?) **BUT**… what would you think of one more fic, with Nat being Steve's fairy godmother with a gun? They go out on a date, just to interact socially, and mess with Clint a little? Like it? Drop me some feedback here… if there's enough interest, I just might give it a crack! **THANKS FOR READING**, by the way… thanks for sticking with me til the end, I'm glad you liked it! And thank you for all the encouragement along the way xx_


End file.
